


Meet Me in the Midst: A Tangled Web of Truths

by DontMindtheReticence



Series: Meet Me in the Midst [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bullying, Eventual Romance, F/M, Guilt, Magic, POV Draco Malfoy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontMindtheReticence/pseuds/DontMindtheReticence
Summary: The third chapter of "Meet Me in the Midst"Draco has finally gotten the confirmation of his existence in a soulmate bond, but it is only the beginning. With an echoing desire to find a path to discovering who his Y/N is and where he may find her, he begins his search of a hopeful second copy of the book Y/N is somehow in the possession of. Though he is unsure of what exactly lies within the pages, he can't help but feel the answers he's sought for his whole life have been written upon them.Thus begins his restless search for this promised path, but nowhere was it said that the journey would be easy. When one embarks on an adventure as momentous as his, one must expect the inevitable pains that threaten to plague not only the heart, but the mind as well.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Reader
Series: Meet Me in the Midst [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015317
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Meet Me in the Midst: A Tangled Web of Truths

** Chapter Three  **

****

“What do you mean you’ve got a soulmate?” Goyle positioned his question towards Draco, a puzzled, lazy expression fixed upon his features.

Draco rolled his eyes in return before answering, disdain laced in his tone, “I mean exactly what you just said. What part is muddling your brain further past your previous level of stupidity?”

“W-well…” Goyle began, his eyes shifting nervously between Crabbe and Draco as his head became empty of thought.

Crabbe shifted on his feet while he spoke up, his words finding difficulty in getting through the dry landscape of his throat, “They’re not supposed to exist, though, are they?”

Draco rolled his sight away from his lackeys, the notion of having to explain himself to these two morons already exhausting him and he knew it was but only the beginning.

Goyle chipped in once more, voice appearing into the air with a slight tremble, “A fairy tale my pop always called it.”

Draco swallowed hard and came back with a softer tone, “Yeah…my father would have me believe the same.”

Crabbe and Goyle stood apprehensively a few feet apart from Draco, head slung low, eyes peering off into the distance. Much to their high-strung surprise, Draco snapped his eyes back onto them, resolve painting over the uncertainty, “They’re wrong. All of them. I am proof of that.”

Without any forethought or planning, Goyle questioned the looming presence of his friend once more, “How d’ya know for sure?”

“Hearing a girl’s voice in my head every day should be evidence enough, don’t you agree?” Draco’s words came out fast and pressed, threatening Goyle’s standing as he stood within his cross-hairs.

While Draco’s eyes bore daggers into Goyle’s now sweaty, reddened face, Crabbe became overtaken with his mocking amusement and spoke his thoughts aloud, “There’s really a girl living inside your head?”

“Well…” Draco began to feel a mix of embarrassment at the phrasing of his reality, “It’s not like she’s there _all_ the time. Just once every day.”

Draco visibly paused, mulling over the changes he’s experienced in the last year, “Although, I can’t say for certain that won’t change. I used to have to wait for weeks before I heard her voice again…Now she comes to me daily.”

The tone in his voice shifted dramatically marked simultaneously in a shift of his features. He had softened, a characteristic that made Crabbe and Goyle quite uneasy. Vulnerability shown in his eyes as a grateful peace pulled the corners of his lips upwards.

A transportation into serenity was taking place when it occurred to him that he still had an audience. Casting his gaze quickly upon his friends, he caught the shot of an anxious, but above all, slightly judging look pass between them.

Instantly, Draco cleared his throat and took back control, capturing their flustered attention with his stern voice, “I need more information on this. All I know is what my mother used to tell me when I was a child.”

Goyle perks up, instantly distracted by his own memory like that of a puppy seeing a butterfly, “Yeah, yeah! My mum used to do the same!”

Draco watched in frustration as Goyle retreated into his mind to recall the information gathered from the fairy tales, “They’re born on the same day.”

“At the same time.” Crabbe added revealing his own experience with the tale.

Draco simply rolled his eyes and plopped onto the black leather armchair to his left, waiting impatiently for their useless droning to reach its end.

“And they could pass along messages in their head,” Goyle pointed to Draco, “just like you said!”

Crabbe jumped onto Goyle’s high energy, “Yeah! Through a rare bit of—”

“Magic! Yes,” Their eyes went to Draco, mouth curled downwards in a scowl, “ _I know_. I am, after all, that very wizard linked to a witch. We’ve all heard the story, _but it is not enough_. What I need are answers to the gaps the story didn’t fill.”

“How d’you suppose you’ll find them?” Goyle asked meekly, voice quieted to a mere whisper. 

Finally hearing a reasonable question, Draco answered sitting straighter, “I saw her holding a book that seemed to cover all of this. It’s an old, tattered thing like the one’s we’ve got here.”

Lost in concentration, Draco tapped his fingers against the arms of the chair, “I need to know if it’s here.”

“It would be in the library, then, wouldn’t it?” Goyle wondered aloud. 

Draco rolled his eyes, and marked the growth of a headache from this repetitive action, “You mean the room stacked wall to wall with books? Why, yes, Goyle, I believe that is where they would store it.”

“The problem is locating it, if it’s there.” His usual aura of self-proclaimed confidence appeared around him, “But I plan to tackle the issue as soon as possible.”

Crabbe pushed air out through pursed lips as he took note of time, “It’d be hard to get in now with curfew going into effect soon.”

“Do you really think I would do something so stupid as to sneak into the library after hours and risk losing _more_ house points so close to the end term?” Draco questioned forcefully.

His lackeys froze once again under his disdainful stare.

Draco waved off the insinuation and continued, “Obviously, the plan is to search tomorrow.” He looked back to them, startling the pair with the sudden gleam that appeared in his eyes, “And you two are going to help me.”

* * *

“C’mon, Draco.” Crabbe lamented for the umpteenth time, “We’ve been searching for _hours_.”

Goyle looked down upon his stomach in misery and whimpered, “Lunch will be over soon…”

Crabbe nodded feverishly at Goyle’s point, “And we haven’t found a thing this whole time!”

Draco dropped his book-holding hands to rest against the shelf in front of him, “Are complaining and sobbing over food the only things you two are good for?”

His lethargic groupies looked at one another, shrugged, and nodded back to their ringleader, affirming his conclusions.

Draco scoffed, too tired himself to push any further, “Fine. Go. Stuff your faces.”

With another breath still left in him to continue, Crabbe and Goyle pushed off from their seats and bolted to the doors, leaving Draco to mumble the rest of his insult, “Not like you were of any help anyway.”

He looked around him, casting his tired glance onto the few students still studying and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. Though they looked as worn out and miserable as he did, at least they’d found what they were looking for. No matter how dull the reading may be appearing in their minds, they were reading the targeted topic. Draco, on the other hand, _had_ been searching for hours and had come up with nothing. Not one text came even remotely close to delving into the questions he harbored.

The reoccurring thought to just give up and move on with his day crept to the front of his mind, and he feared his dwindling energy would not allow him to push it away this time. His grip tightened around the book he had just checked, frustration threatening to break apart the bindings when a sliver of white light suddenly appeared. Not physically in his external environment, more pleasurably, it appeared within.

She was coming back. In all his searching, he’d forgotten he had yet to hear from her.

Letting go of the book instantly, Draco moved quickly to his book bag, pulling out his documenting journal and a quill before setting off to prepare for what she was to give him now.

Quill at the ready, Draco closed his eyes and let himself be surrounded with the fragment of her presence.

Pleasant, gentle lilts of a melody rose to his ears as her shape became clearer.

_She’s laughing_. He realized. It was short, fading, but Merlin was it everything he needed to hear.

Two more shapes began to form in his mind as they occupied her vision and he recognized them instantly. Though he could not put names to their faces, they appeared often enough in merry enjoyments for him to know what position they held in her heart. A slight breeze of jealousy swept through his mind as he bore witness once more to the dear friendship Y/N was able to engage in.

_“Can we please get back to the topic at hand?” Y/N had giggled before looking down to that same tattered book and continuing, “Regardless of how vague and incomplete the book is about our crossing, the message is clear. The connections between us are going to get stronger and I, for one, am looking forward to every second of it.”_

Draco moved his quill hastily, refusing himself the moments he desired to instantly process everything she’d just said. With fervor, he was writing down her words, each one spoken having been burned in his memory. 

His task completed, he looked down at the physical representation of her vocalizations, and he allowed himself to feel the weight of it.

Crossings, strengthening bonds, and resounding above it all, her excitement for him. He’d barely had any sense in him to examine much else. _She was excited for him_. He recognized that ache as he had felt it pulse within his own bones.

Clarity came rushing in under the bask of how deeply connected he already felt to her combining with the prospect that it was only going to get better. The urge to relinquish to hopelessness disappeared and in came desire. Motive. Action.

Rising from his seat, he placed his journal and quill back into the confines of his bag and breathed in the refreshing air of her unbeknownst encouragements. His feet picked up with more purpose than before and he set off into the next section of shelves with the promise of fulfillment. A smile etched upon his face to comfort each step he took in the hope of closing in on her.

* * *

The parameters of his search had continued and expanded to a couple more sections within the library to no more avail than hours before.

The feeling of defeat greeted him once more as he sat still before yet another unhelpful book lying on his lap. It wasn’t entirely clear to him how long he’d been sitting there, wasting away under the unscratchable itch to find her in just one page. The drifted attention to the clock was able to inform him, however, that enough time had passed to threaten the loss of yet another meal.

He willed the book to return to its place upon the shelf and let his hand drop down tiredly to his bag. Reaching in, he retrieved the one tangible connection he had of her. He flipped open the pages, briefly scanning memories he held of her from past links until he came back to what she had said that day.

And thus, returned the ache with the study of her words, held dear to him as the sole tangible line he had to her. The anguish of failure wisped like a dying flame within him. He felt no closer to reaching her. Even with the rising directness of his recent clues, not an inch had been gained on his part and while it angered him surely, it mostly scared him.

The circumstances of what he was expected to do were as unclear as they’d ever been. Nothing had really changed. He was still lost in a surging sea trying desperately to get a glimpse of her lifeline beyond the rising waves in the dead of night. She was out there somewhere, her voice carrying above the water every now and then, but far beyond his reach.

Always beyond his reach.

Sadness came in like a gust of chilled air as he took in a deep breath, taking it in through his nose and letting it out past his lips. Though he was still left feeling the gloom of his suffering, one thing continued to ring through.

The melody of her laughter.

It had been a while since he’d been given the chance to hear it and now that it had been granted to him once more, a small, but traceable channel of persuasion was sketched in his mind to continue in spite of the day’s defeat.

Draco began to reside to the fact that the weekend wasn’t over. Time could be allowed in furthering along his quest for answers and though it didn’t thrill him to spend anymore of his time hidden within shelves of the school’s library, the stakes felt much too high to abandon his search.

Plenty more sections existed that he’d yet to explore for answers and if time needed to be sacrificed on the chance of reaching them, so be it. He was more than willing to spare the energy.

* * *

The next day, Sunday to be exact, Draco arrived at the library alone. He knew better than to recruit Crabbe and Goyle for any of their “help” on the matter.

He continued where his pursuit had left off, exploring the last remaining shelves upon the case he had ended at, and then moved to the next sectioned genre when no answers had been found. This pattern of judging book covers, and skimming pages continued for half the day before Draco was interrupted by a swift, soft “Ahem”.

A feeling of disgust flooded his system when his eyes landed upon the cause of his break in concentration. Truth be told, he hadn’t really been concentrating. In fact, he’d zoned out completely after realizing that yet another book held no answers for him. But none of that mattered very much to him now. Not when it was _Granger_ who had startled him.

“What do _you_ want?” He spat, barely giving her any attention has he straightened in his seat.

Hermione took a deep breath and kept her posture, strengthening her reserve to follow through, “I couldn’t help but notice you’re having trouble locating something.”

“Oh, yeah?” Draco questioned, his voice still carrying a sharp edge, “And what brought on that suspicion?”

“Not much.” Hermione shrugged, “Just the fact that you’ve visited around a dozen sections by now, always leaving them empty handed with that same scowl fixed upon your face.”

He rolled his eyes, mimicking indifference, “So you’ve got eyes. What? Am I supposed to say congratulations? ‘Oh, look! Even the filthy mudblood can arrive to an obvious conclusion.’”

Hermione’s lips straightened in anger at the term he’d often used for her. She’d walked over to him, stupidly now she felt, on the sudden whim to be the bigger person. Whatever that meant, she couldn’t be sure of now, as she looked into his disrespecting eyes.

His desperation was unmistakable as he exited each section he trailed into and the need to help someone so, well, pathetic took over her common sense. The resolve to do good and share her expertise, as well as possibly take on a challenge, was beginning to disintegrate, making her feel quite foolish for thinking anything productive or positive could have come about.

Before she could arrive to a firm decision on where to move from there, Draco slumped back into his chair, rubbed his eyes, and grumbled, “What does my pattern of roaming matter to you anyway?”

Arming herself with well-earned pride, Hermione responded matter-of-factly, “I may not be an expert on everything the library has to offer, but I’ve done my fair share of research in here.”

Draco lifted his eyes up to hers in suspicion while she continued, “Perhaps I could be of some help.”

“ _You_ help _me_?” He instinctively challenged, “That’s bordering on the unnatural! Someone of my stature receiving so-called ‘aid’ from someone of _yours_.”

Draco scoffed, his amusement angering Hermione greatly, “Hadn’t realized you were so keen on making jokes, Granger. Either that or you’re more demented than I gave you credit.”

Hermione shot back at full-force, tossing out her previous inclinations completely, “And you’re just as arrogant and stubborn as I’ve always given _you_ credit. It was foolish of me to think even someone as despicable as you would know solid support when it’s being offered.”

And without another word, Hermione turned on her heels and walked determinedly from the source of the grief now creeping into her mind, threatening her peace.

Unbeknownst to her, the words she’d spoken hadn’t gone unheard, no matter how little he thought of her. In fact, Draco was actively snuffing out a flicker of guilt while simultaneously cutting away the lingering thought that he’d made a grievous mistake.

Even in their second year, Hermione’s reputation as an extremely well-read student preceded her. If anyone was going to be of any use to him in his quest, it likely would’ve been her. Yet, another thought he resided to incinerate, sweeping the ashes under a rug and out of his view.

The rest of his day was spent in the usual fruitless search of answers. All meals but the first having been skipped in his resolution that he could indeed find what he sought after on his own. Obviously, to no effect.

What hurt the most to his ego was the fact that through all his explorations, only a small dent in the vast library had been made.

Forlorn pessimism began shouting at him once again. Reminding him of how stupid he must’ve been to truly believe that he would ever locate the book he couldn’t be sure was available to him. And though he refused to admit it even to himself, his restlessness and sheer exhaustion had begun to make him question who had really been the demented one in the library that day.

He rolled his eyes at himself, more pointedly at the hope he had allowed to divulge in so carelessly. The nagging feeling that if his father could see him now, only a firm look of disapproval and disappointment could be managed. Draco couldn’t shake the belief that it would be well-earned too. He certainly felt pathetic, surely, he must look the part. 

Eventually, Draco made his way back to the Slytherin dormitory. The walk having taken longer than usual due to the sluggish movements of his feet.

When his head came to rest firmly upon his pillow, the lingering of Y/N’s nearing entrance danced in his mind. Propping himself back up slowly, Draco took hold of his journal next to his bed and charmed his quill to fly into his hand. Morosely, he closed his eyes and waited for her.

Stars. She was looking at the stars, sitting quietly on the bench connected to her window.

Something felt off about her. He wasn’t sure what, but her usual sense of peace felt tarnished as if a weight had been dragging her down.

He sat up straighter as a thought running through her mind came into his focus.

_“Have I really been misjudging him all this time?” She wondered to herself, “He’d cut her down so mercilessly and for what? All she had done was offer some assistance. What could be so unnatural about this Granger helping him?”_

_A deep sigh pushed against her chest as she remembered the hurt that flickered in the poor girl’s eyes at Draco’s horrible words._

_In a small, pained tremble, Y/N whispered to herself, “Perhaps I don’t know him after all.”_

“You saw that?” Draco breathed quietly, forgetting himself and where he was.

He cleared his throat and glanced around, ensuring no one had noticed him or what he’d mumbled. Safety assured, he replayed what he’d seen in his mind; a film drenched in sore feelings and acutely judging wonderings. In a daze, he set his materials down onto the nightstand next to him. There wasn’t a part of him that wanted to write down those words of hers. He wouldn’t need to really, as he was certain it would never leave his memory.

A tornado of contradicting thoughts and feelings paved disastrous trenches in his mind. Shame accompanied by guilt fought against the justifications of the moral traditions passed down to him.

What he had said was true, there was no disregarding that, so why was it something that was upsetting her? The thought that maybe she hadn’t caught onto the fact of Hermione’s blood status seemed to compliment the possibility that Y/N had simply misunderstood what had happened. He had to reason that if she knew what he did, she wouldn’t have placed herself in such an empathetic, doubtful position.

And yet, something told him he was wrong.

Something inside, repressed and forgotten, spoke underneath his vindications, whispering doubts of his own. It reminded him of the aggravating fact that try as hard as he did, Hermione in spite of her dirtied blood, outperformed him in every class.

She topped everyone in their year, in fact, and though he stood tall above others as well, she was always one step above him. Always. It had truly baffled him that year how such a feat could be possible as it didn’t coincide with what he had been taught on the differences between blood statuses. Doubt had snuck in and remained despite his many attempts to shove it out.

That’s what pushed him to lay down once more, ignoring all else and becoming singularly focused on untangling the web of supposed truths and unavoidable facts. The effort of coming to a firm understanding of the world around and within him is what caused his eyelids to flutter close, sleep beginning its process of overtaking him. But it was Y/N’s pain, her disappointment, her sadness and confusion that tired his heart and mind eventually lulling him into a deeply unsatisfactory, haunted rest.

When Draco awoke the next morning more weary than the night before, the struggle had already begun. His focus to return to the library was still at the forefront of his mind, but how to reach his goal had changed, and the exasperation of making that change bothered his every breath. There was a price he needed to pay and as much as he hated it, too much time had been spent in the dark.

Y/N was seeing the light and he wanted to be there too, basking in its comforting glow. And it was that ethereal ray of peace that extended his boundaries.

He wasn’t sure if she would be there again today nor was he certain his words would be enough, but it was all he had left. Once he arrived at the library, he would look for her and request for her assistance. Now all he needed to do in preparation was find a way to justify his actions to save himself from the internal wreckage of becoming someone his family would look to with hatred.

Draco was no blood traitor, and while this may be viewed as toeing the line, he’d been left with no other options. He needed to find Y/N and he’d been left with no answers on how to accomplish that ever-weighing goal. The past couple of days showed a futility in being left to his own devices. If asking for a sickeningly well-accomplished, studious mudblood’s help was what he had to do to find a path to his soulmate, then he would do it.

Ignoring the screams of obscenities his mind threw at him as he drew closer to the library, Draco breathed in his resolve. He had but one move left. He just hoped no one would be vigilant enough to take note of a pureblood such as he requesting the help of a mudblood such as Hermione.

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer: I do not own Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, or Hermione Granger. They exist within J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series. 
> 
> Also, I am very sorry I have not updated this for months. Life gets crazy and I was busy with a couple of other projects. Hope you do enjoy this late addition to the story!


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